


Firecracker

by AnnaSepulchre



Series: Stalker AU [2]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Kidnapping, M/M, Obsession, Possessive Behavior, Psychological Horror, Rape/Non-con Elements, Stockholm Syndrome, Trauma, Unreliable Narrator
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-08
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-23 18:16:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15612129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaSepulchre/pseuds/AnnaSepulchre
Summary: You step on the sparks(You get in the way)On days when his head wasn't loopy with heat and groggy with sleep, he would think of moving his hands to loop around Dan's neck to drown him.





	Firecracker

**Author's Note:**

  * For [phandomsub](https://archiveofourown.org/users/phandomsub/gifts).



> This is a very, very belated birthday present for phandomsub. Happy birthday - I'm glad I could do something for you. <3
> 
>  **Warning:** This is just pretty much just darkfic. It could make sense without having read the first one, but it would be better to read the first one for context.
> 
> Please heed the tags.

An indeterminate amount of time had passed. It's not like Phil was free to roam the house, mark the days on a calendar. After his sleeping schedule had been wrecked within the first couple of days, he had no idea how much time was slipping by.

 

They'd settled into a routine. Dan clearly had some sort of job that pulled him away in six-hour shifts, plus travel time, which Phil only knew through the details he shared when he returned.

 

Dan coming back was the best part of his day. He would carefully help Phil sit up, make sure the restraints weren't too tight for movement, and help him walk to the bathroom (barren of any useful objects to Phil – he'd heard Dan shower, but had no clue where he put anything after he was finished). If he needed to clean, Dan would run him a bath and strip him of his clothing, all while looking at him like he was the most marvelous thing he'd ever seen, delicately running fingertips over each exposed centimeter of warm skin.

 

Phil hated how the wondering look in Dan's eyes made his stomach flip with more than nerves.

 

Dan would help him into the bath and clean him – the restraints, he'd been assured, were water-resistant, and thus didn't need to be removed. Sometimes, the soft sloshing of the water and the heat of the bath would lull him back into sleep, head tipping back and exposing his neck as he drifted off. He knew Dan loved that, could hear it in the way his breathing would go slightly ragged, feel it in the way Dan's fingers pressed a little harder into the washcloth, into his skin.

 

He would let himself drift as Dan ran soapy fingers through his hair, groan softly when he massaged his head. When Dan finished carefully rinsing his hair, he would press soft, lingering kisses to Phil's flushed cheeks. The restraints weighed heavy on his thinning wrists as he dragged them through the water, hands seeking Dan's chin to tilt their mouths together – it was so much better without cloth drying Phil's mouth and stifling his tongue.

 

On days when his head wasn't loopy with heat and groggy with sleep, he would think of moving his hands to loop around Dan's neck to drown him.

 

Dan wanted Phil with him when he was home, so once he was trusted out of bed he would bring Phil around his flat, reconnecting the restraints with his hands behind his back while Phil was still pliable and relaxed from the bath. He would clip a leash to the thin chain around his bound hands, keeping the handle looped around his wrist while he cooked for them, or cuddling close to Phil as they considered takeaway options on Dan's phone.

 

The urgency that Phil first had when he saw the potential of escape in front of him like that had faded. Instead, he turned his head to breathe against Dan's hair while filing away location information from the map. Dan never let him see the address of his flat, but he had a reasonably good idea based on the places he would order from. Dan's schedule was always different, so the time in the top corner of the phone had no meaning to Phil, no reliable indication of how long he'd slept before or how long Dan had been gone.

 

It's a longer game, Phil had wanted to convince himself. He would be back home one day, but he didn't think too hard about that – couldn't, without a burn of tears threatening to spill.

 

Each “evening” (as Phil thought of the time after Dan came home) was filled with similar activities: movies and video games (which Dan would sometimes simply let Phil play, content to watch him with the leash around his wrist while Phil watched the screen) and inevitably, sex.

 

It wasn't always as crazed as the first night Phil was there. Sometimes Dan would curl up to him on the couch while he played a game, kiss at his neck until Phil couldn't focus, slip a hand beneath the elastic of his pyjamas and bring him off like that. Phil thinks Dan liked the relative normalcy of it – touching his “boyfriend” (if that was how he thought of Phil) in his flat with no expectation of reciprocation, simply because he wanted to. When Phil would come down from his high, head falling to the side to look at Dan, the adoration on his face briefly erased the absurdity of it all. _He's someone I would've done so much for_ , Phil would think, and can do nothing but lean in to wordlessly ask for a kiss. Dan always eagerly obliges.

 

Phil thinks it's been nearly ten baths when he notices one of the links on the chain open ever so slightly. Alone in the bathroom with water running to wash his hands after using the toilet, he pinches the link closed and counts where it falls in the chain.

 

Dan knocks on the door; Phil doesn't jump, just moves his hands under the spray.

 

“Yeah, Dan?”

 

“Can I come in?”

 

“'Course.”

 

Dan turns the handle and timidly steps in. Phil lets his eyes run over Dan's frame, lingering on the way his shirt clings to his narrow, exposed collarbones, the bony jut of his hips against denim. He wonders if he's starting to look as thin as Dan.

 

“D'you want to watch a movie tonight? I was thinking you could pick?” His eyes, soft and hopeful.

 

“Yeah, sounds good.” He dries his hands on the towel, holds them out obediently. Dan clips the leash over a link in the chain, unknowing, heat simmering in the way he darts his gaze up at Phil and back down again. He slips a tube-like lock down over the clasp and pockets the small key.

 

“We'll order in tonight, I think,” Dan says, turning to walk out of the bathroom and leaving slack in the leash as Phil follows. “Indian?”  
  
“Fine with me.”

 

\---

 

Phil counts his breaths instead of focusing on the movie, something Pixar that he'd chosen to watch Dan's eyes grow fond. Dan was his backrest, one of his legs dangling off the couch as Phil rested against him. He could hear Dan's heartbeat as a gentle thudding resonating in his head.

 

The doorbell chimes and Phil's breath stutters, losing count. Dan laughs quietly and runs a hand over Phil's hair.

 

“Must be the food. I'll be a minute – behave yourself, alright?” Dan says.  
  


Phil nods and sits up, watching as Dan ties the handle of the leash around a leg of the heavy wooden coffee table. Obediently, he leans back against the couch and looks at the TV as Dan leaves the room, listens for him scurrying down the stairs.

 

Without looking, Phil's hands make short work of the weakened link in the chain. The opened segment and the leash end fall into his lap and he jolts at the weight.

 

His hands are shaking as he looks down and spreads them apart. Downstairs, he hears Dan greet the delivery guy and fumble through a customer service interaction.

 

He stands, looking around the flat and letting the leash fall to the rug with a soft thud. Phil slowly navigates to the kitchen, avoiding the creaks in the floor as he hears Dan shut the front door. His eyes fall on the butcher block filled with knives – his fingers shake as he pulls out the longest one, unsure if he could handle the weight of the butcher knife.

 

“I got you extra garlic naan, like you want-” Dan's voice abruptly stops across the hall. For a long minute, Phil can hear nothing but his own measured breaths, certain all Dan's hearing is his own breathing as well.

 

“Phil?” And his voice sounds so small, so hurt, that Phil closes his eyes and carefully places the knife back in the block, throat burning. He slowly walks back to the doorway, sees Dan's back in the entryway of the lounge, frozen.

 

“I'm over here, Dan.” Phil doesn't recognize the strange stiffness in his own voice, the forced calmness even as his heart pounds. Dan whips around, eyes wide and arms full of bags of their food. His eyes dart downward to Phil's wrists, still covered by the cuffs but hanging loose at his side, chain fallen apart.

 

“When... how...” Dan's voice fails and his voice cracks. He takes a step towards Phil; Phil takes a step out of the kitchen doorway, away from Dan. Dan's eyes widen with panic, knuckles tightening on the bag handles.

 

“I'm just... I'm going to put our food in the kitchen, okay? And then we can talk?” Dan's voice shakes. He takes a few more steps forwards; Phil takes several steps backwards. Dan bites his lower lip, eyes shiny and big. He leans against the furthest opposite wall, trying to make himself as small as possible, and slips into the kitchen.

 

Phil listens to him rustling about in the kitchen, to Dan's soft sniffling sounds, and closes his eyes in pain. Soundlessly, he pads down the stairs until he hits the landing next to the bathroom. As he turns to go down a set of stairs he's never descended, he sees a blur of motion and barely manages to twist to catch Dan's arm as he's tackled to the floor.

 

The knife in Dan's hand buries in the floor next to Phil's head from the force. Eyes wide, he stares up into Dan's frantic face.

 

“Phil, you _can't_. You can't just- you can't leave me, please.” He buries his face against Phil's neck and sobs out a wet breath. “Please, anything, I'll give you anything, but you can't leave.” Dan's voice is muffled against his neck, tremulous with tears. His free arm winds beneath Phil's body, pulling him tight. Phil feels featherlight kisses against his pounding pulse and the panic in his body wars with wanting to relax into how good he knows Dan can make him feel. His heart feels like it's about to hammer out of his chest, splinter his ribs.

 

“Dan,” he says quietly. Dan ignores him in favor of taking his hand from the knife and using it to tilt his chin up, mouthing a hot, wet trail up to his jaw. Phil lets his neck be exposed, eyes unseeing. He can feel his cock swelling in the soft joggers Dan always keeps him in, and so can Dan, judging from how he gently presses his thigh between his legs. Phil swallows hard, dizzy and sick.

 

In one panicked movement, he grabs Dan by the arms and shoves him off; Dan gracelessly crashes onto his side and Phil shoves at him until he's on his belly. He scrambles for the stair on all fours, intent on getting down them however he can. He feels Dan's foot connect with his thigh, tries to clutch the railing to right himself. Dan's hand grips the back of his shirt and yanks him backward, and he falls hard onto his back on Dan. The air rushes out of both of them, but Dan is faster to recover, winding his legs around Phil's and flipping them with Phil pinned on his belly. He groans, tries to push him off but only succeeds in writhing under Dan.

 

“Phil, please,” Dan begs. “You can't, you can't _leave_ , I can give you anything you want, but you have to _stay._ ” His hands tangle with Phil's and he presses a soft kiss to the back of Phil's neck.

 

Phil throws his head back and headbutts him. Judging from the sickening crack and Dan's screechy “Fuck!”, he makes solid contact with his nose. In his distraction, Phil works his hand free and gropes backward blindly, finding the soft column of Dan's neck and squeezing. Dan sputters and Phil uses the leverage to push him off, squirm out from beneath him.

 

Dan's face is a mess, blood already running down his mouth. His eyes are shiny and disbelieving. Their feet are still tangled together, their bodies on opposite sides of the hall. Dan wipes his mouth with the palm of his hand; Phil hates the thrum of arousal in his lower belly at the sight. The small landing is filled with their heavy breathing, Dan's wet with tears and blood.

 

“I love you, Phil,” he whispers. Phil wants to cry, fingers itching to stop the blood trickling from Dan's nose, legs thrumming with the need to run.

 

“I don't know you,” Phil whispers. “You... this isn't love, Dan.”

 

Dan hiccups out a pathetic breath. “It could be. You could know me.”

 

“Not like this.” Phil holds up his hands, broken links clinking. “Never like this.”

 

Dan takes his shirt and wipes his lower face clean with it – the blood has slowed to a trickle, and Phil feels guilt crawl up his throat. “I'm sorry,” he whispers. “I didn't... I just wanted...”

 

Dan looks at him with watery eyes. “I just want you to be here and happy with me, Phil. Please.”

 

Phil's shoulders sag and he looks at Dan helplessly. Slowly, Dan shifts to his knees and crawls forward, eyes skipping over Phil's face. Phil makes no move to escape as Dan settles in his lap and brings a shaky hand up to touch Phil's cheek. Up close, Phil can see the feathering of bruising starting under Dan's eyes, masked by his dark circles. He takes a deep breath and touches a fingertip to the soft undereye skin. Dan closes his eyes and a hint of a smile grows on his face.

 

“I'm sorry,” Phil says again. “You didn't... this is fucked up, Dan, but you've never actually hurt me, and I'm sorry.”

 

Dan's eyes open, beautiful and understanding. “I don't mind, Phil,” he whispers. “I'm yours.” He leans closer, tilting his nose out of the way. “Show me I'm yours, Phil?”

 

Phil's lips part with a shaky inhale as he slips his hand down to cradle Dan's jaw. Dan's eyes close again, leaning into the touch. Phil's stomach swoops with arousal at the blatant trust Dan's showing, the belief that Phil's not going to throw him and run, and he rewards it with a soft kiss against Dan's willing mouth. Dan makes a small, hurt sound and Phil makes one back, lips parting and pulling in a gentle give and take. Phil can taste the copper from the thin trickle of blood on Dan's upper lip, gently sucks on it to clean it and Dan melts against him.

 

Phil's fingers wrap around the back of Dan's neck, playing with the soft, feathery hair at his nape. He can feel Dan's hands gripping the front of his loose t-shirt – one Dan bought for him, with colourful Japanese lettering emblazoned across the front. He can smell the copper beneath Dan's nose, and it sends his head spinning. Gently, Phil tips them both over until they're laying on their sides on the floor, lips never disconnecting. Phil shifts until he's braced over Dan, Dan's hands clinging to him and his mouth soft and inviting.

 

Phil pulls back with a gasp, pinning Dan to the ground with one hand on his chest. Dan looks utterly wrecked beneath him, the bruising quickly worsening and his pupils blown wide and dark. He whines, squirming beneath Phil's hand and gently tugging on the shirt.

 

“More, please, Phil,” he whispers. “Make me yours.”

 

“Yeah, I- yeah,” Phil stutters out – his mind feels blank with arousal, cock heavy and neglected between his legs. He takes Dan's shoulder and pulls at it, flips him over, and Dan goes willingly. His head hangs as he braces himself on his elbows. Phil drags a hand down his clothed back and over Dan's arse through his joggers; distantly, he realizes he's never been the one initiating anything, and now Dan is the one simply taking whatever Phil will do to him. He shudders, squeezes his firm cheek in one hand and hears Dan's breath catch.

 

He hooks his fingers under the waistband and yanks them down, baring Dan's arse. His cock has been inside him so many times, but he's never seen it from this angle. Holding him open, with one hand and exposing his hole, Phil sucks on two of his fingers and presses one roughly inside; his back arches and he pushes back against Phil's hand, breaths whiny and staccato. Phil watches, breathing hard, as his finger slips inside Dan. The spit was enough for the first push in, but his finger drags on the way back out. He pulls it back out fully and Dan's hands claw at the floor as he gasps.

 

“No, please, don't stop, don't change your mind-” Dan cants his hips backwards and arches his back. Phil can hear his own breathing in discordant rhythm with his heartbeat in his ears.

 

“I can take it, I want it, you know I can take it, Phil-”

 

Phil shushes him, runs both hands over Dan's back and down his arse again. He barely has to hold him open with how wide Dan's spreading himself. He sucks in a deep breath and leans down to let his saliva drip against Dan's hole.

 

Dan's noises are a litany of pleas and whines, his hole clenching up – Phil rubs his own saliva into it, pushes more out with his tongue and slips the tips of two fingers inside. They sink in easy, Dan's body relaxing and opening up for him.

 

Abruptly, Phil feels dizzingly sick – the slick drag of his fingers, watching Dan's hole flex and pull him in, it all suddenly seems like too much stimulation from all angles. He closes his eyes and rests his forehead on Dan's lower back, sliding his free hand around the front of Dan's soft thigh. The contact helps ease the spinning of the room so he moves up closer, until his hand is pressing between his hip and Dan's hole, his cock pressing against the warm skin of Dan's arse and thigh.

 

“Feel so good, Phil,” Dan pants out. “I love how much you want me.”

 

Phil shudders against him, fingers absently grinding in and out of Dan's hole. The sweet noises he's making are almost enough to make Phil forget the weight of the cuffs still snug against his wrists.

 

“You're just teasing me now, Phil,” Dan says, voice breathless and tinged with humor. Phil feels his stomach roll at the familiarity. “Want you to come inside me, not humping my leg.”

 

Phil starts as he realizes his hips were working in a slow grind against Dan's thigh, leaving a trail of shiny-sticky pre-come. He feels numb as he watches Dan's hand come up behind himself, shiny with spit, and grasp his cock. Phil's breath rushes out as he pushes into the loose grasp of Dan's clasp. Dan guides his cock to where Phil's fingers are still inside of him, gently nudges it against them.

 

“I'm ready, Phil,” he says softly. He shifts back so he's braced on both elbows, tilts his hips up and edges his knees apart farther.

 

Phil's stomach is a mess of nerves and low-simmering disgust with himself, at the way he gets his own hand as wet as he can to slick his cock, the way he scissors his fingers as he pulls them out of Dan to watch his hole spread for him. His head spins as he pushes the head of cock against Dan's hole; it pulses slick droplets of pre-come and slicks the way to push inside.

 

Phil stops immediately, the grip of Dan's body and the heat around the tip of his cock overwhelming. Dan whines and grinds back, letting another slight bit push in.

 

“Phil, please, I want it, want you to have all of me, let me take you-” and at that, the burning in Phil's throat coalesces and spills over into hot tears rolling over his cheeks before he can think. His trembling hands find Dan's hips as he pushes inside, legs too close to Dan to properly thrust.

 

“You already did,” Phil whispers, and a sob wracks his body as he grinds forward. Dan makes a broken, whimpering sound; one hand reaches back to blindly tangle with Phil's on his hip.

 

“You took- you took _everything_ , Dan, you, fuck, I can't-” His sobs echo in the cavern of his chest, hips rolling forwards and dragging his cock back out of the warmth of Dan's body, his hole that's only just barely slick enough. The edge of roughness tweaks a strand of arousal deep inside him and he leans over Dan's back, free hand bracing on the ground to grind faster.

 

“I hate you for this,” Phil gasps, and the sound Dan makes is wounded even as he presses back into him. “How could I go without this now, I can't, how can I live with it, fuck, Dan-”

 

“Phil-” Dan starts, voice hurt, but Phil scrunches his eyes shut and jerks forward into him hard, making Dan gasp and steady himself.

 

“How could I- fuck, I couldn't have this with anyone else,” Phil says, voice destroyed with tears. “You've eaten me alive- I've got nothing-”

 

Dan makes a scratchy, horrible noise and comes untouched over the carpet. His body seizes around Phil and goes limp, and Phil hates more than anything else that the feeling of shoving his cock inside him once he's relaxed is what pushes him over the edge. He moans, throat choking around the shape of a sob halfway through, as he comes inside of Dan's fucked-out body.

 

There's only a heartbeat of stillness, and then Dan's slid off his cock and has him by the wrists, trying to flip him to pin him to the floor. Legs like jelly, Phil barely manages to fight him off and throws his whole body down onto him, pinning Dan to the floor on his back. After some panicked flailing, Phil's gathered up both of Dan's thin wrists in one hand and pins those to his chest.

 

Dan's face is an utter wreck. The bruising has fully formulated and tainted the hollows of his eyes an ugly mauve. The blood has dried over his top lip, and his face looks beyond exhausted, pushed into something like peace or acceptance.

 

“Just kill me,” Dan whispers. Phil feels nausea roll in his stomach again. “I'm not going to stop, Phil. I love you.”

 

Phil swallows. He can feel tremors echoing throughout his body, from hunger or cold or sickness or all three. He looks down at Dan's peaceful, wrecked face, touches it gently with one hand – Dan's eyes open, and all Phil can see is _love_ and _stay._

 

“No more restraints,” Phil says, voice shaking. Dan's eyes widen.

 

“Phil...” he says, his tone indecipherable.

 

“Tell me, Dan,” Phil says. “Tell me no more restraints.”

 

“I promise you from the bottom of my heart, no more restraints,” Dan says. His face is focused, devout, and Phil feels it settle in himself.

 

He lets go of Dan's wrists.

 


End file.
